


destroying my skin and my sweater

by prunuspersicaarchive (prunuspersica)



Series: homesickness [6]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, CharDee - Freeform, F/M, Hospitalization, M/M, MacDennis - Freeform, Panic, Self-Harm, TW alcoholism, tw self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:50:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12596472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prunuspersica/pseuds/prunuspersicaarchive
Summary: warnings: alcoholism, hospitalization, self harm, blood, anxiety, vomit mentiongenre: angstship: macdennis, chardeeWARNING: i wrote this fairly new into the fandom so charlie and dee are ULTRA OOCsummary: songfic for "undone" by weezer. mac doesn't want to do anything anymore... please be careful and check warnings,and here is a reminder that there are healthier coping mechanisms than self harm and alcohol! i do not condone those as good ways to cope. please be save, loves!my tumblr is rosydennis





	destroying my skin and my sweater

_ I’m me, me be, goddamn, I am… _

 

Mac was exhausted. It was May 2nd now, a month after that lipstick-stain incident, and he had spent the past two days and nights drinking and sobbing again. It was definitely the opposite of progress, and it was more attention-seeking than he’d originally thought. He  _ wanted  _ Dee to notice him crying, he  _ wanted  _ her to help, he  _ wanted  _ her to try to comfort him, at least try. He wanted Dennis. He  _ needed _ Dennis.

 

_ I can, sing and, hear me, know me… _

 

The night of May 3rd, Mac was wasted, feeling numb and floaty, and barely managing to stay awake on the couch. He wasn’t sure if Dee was awake to comfort him, finally, so he gave in and tried to really sleep. Dreams were few and far between when he got this drunk, usually odd unless he was really thinking about Dennis. He wondered if Dee would let them do crack together someday, or if he’d have to huff solvents with Charlie as usual. Mac just wanted to get high with someone. But it was two in the morning, so he anxiously chewed a hole in his sweater--which used to belong to Dennis, like everything else--and fell asleep.

 

_ If you want to destroy my sweater, hold this thread as I walk away. _

 

In the morning, Mac looked for his duster. His badass fucking duster, which Charlie hadn’t seen, which meant it went to Dennis. For once, he had taken something. That… that was wrong. He always took. He took so much. But Mac had his sweater, and he had so much of his stuff, his CDs, his clothes, his Discman, the list continued. He ripped the hole in his sweater-- _ his _ sweater,  _ not _ his sweater, not  _ his  _ sweater, nobody’s sweater,  _ their  _ sweater--even bigger. 

 

_ Oh no, it go, it gone, bye bye… _

 

Mac’s hands got colder into the night. May 5th now, and he hadn’t taken off the sweater, even with the warmth of the weather in Philly. He ripped and chewed little holes into it, not caring anymore. He should probably burn it, the ripped-up cotton yarn stained with alcohol and tears and already burnt a little from cigarettes that he tried to burn his arms with. He thought of hurting himself more, but he thought the sweater would be… more cathartic. Nothing really brought catharsis, nothing brought comfort unless he was completely drunk. And even that did nothing. And next thing he knew he was scraping the skin off his thighs with his fingernails and longing for his old razor-blade from high school and for some ‘riot juice’ or something that would make him black out and hopefully die. He didn’t want anything to do with life tonight. Everything felt awful, his eyes hurt, his nose and lungs burned when he breathed, his mouth tasted weird. So he ripped yet another hole in the sweater, and dug his key to the apartment into his thigh in neat cuts. The pain was excruciating, but he kept on going until he felt as if he would throw up, and he did a little. And he passed out, nauseous from alcohol and the vomit he had swallowed, blood staining his hands and his shorts, and full of regret, just as Dee walked out of her room.

 

_ Who I, I think, I sink… and I die. _

 

“Shit, Mac? Can you hear me? Mac? Oh, oh fuck, Charlie? I need your help!” Dee shouted, shaking Mac’s arm, Charlie scurried anxiously out of the bedroom. 

“I… Fuck, I think he’s passed out, I think he had a lot to drink,” Dee shook his arm again, firmly, and then noticed the blood staining his hands. She gasped. His arms were cold.

“Dee, what’s all that blood on his legs…” Charlie nervously asked, rubbing his face. His anxious stims were in full swing now. 

“Oh, oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck.” Dee was ascending into full panic mode, and Charlie was shaking. 

“Shit, Dee,” Charlie breathed. “You know he used to like…”

“He cut himself again. Fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking fuck--call 911, Charlie.” Dee picked up Mac’s phone from the table and tried to wipe some of the blood off his hands.

“Which one’s the 9, Dee? Wh-please, we need to do something, shit, you call. I’ll clean, I’ll clean, I’ll clean…” Charlie passed the phone back to Dee who gave him the cloth and told him to try to wake him up.

“H-hello? Uh, my friend, our friend, he got really drunk, he r-relapsed and cut himself a lot, you need to send an ambulance… Charlie, babe, does he have a pulse, Charlie, check his wrists…”

“Y-yeah. I don’t think there’s a lot there but there’s something that I can feel, like his blood is moving, yeah,” Charlie responded, his hand wrapped around his friend’s wrist. He was panicking, of course they’d all had their fair share of alcohol-based accidents and it’s not like it was the first time he’d seen Mac cut but it was terrifying and he just wanted him to be… okay.

And he wasn’t, was he, 

 

_ If you want to destroy my sweater, hold this thread as I walk away. _

_ Watch me unravel, I’ll soon be naked, lying on the floor, lying on the floor. _

_ I’ve come undone. _

 

Mac woke up in a hospital bed with bandages suffocating his thighs and an IV drip in his bruised arm. His head was pounding, his thighs were sore and stinging, and his eyes hurt. They hurt so much. Charlie shook Dee awake, who had purple under her eyes and a magazine in her hands.

“Shit, Mac, you’re awake. How do you feel?” Dee mumbled, relief washing over her face. Mac groaned and shut his eyes again, desperate to just… sleep. His sweater was still on, ripped up as it was. He wanted to destroy it, he wanted to destroy everything, and himself. Dennis was never going to come back. Dennis didn’t love him, but Mac sure did love Dennis.

“Not good.”

“That’s okay. Drink some water.”

“Okay.”

He slowly drank the whole glass.

“We called Dennis.”

His heart sank.

“Dee left a message.” Charlie added. Mac already hurt, but all his skin was burning now. Why would they--and his phone buzzed. Mac grabbed it and his sweater ripped a little more when it caught on the corner of the side-table. The text was from Dennis, and he felt his whole chest cave in.

_ If you want to destroy my sweater, hold this thread as I walk away. _

_ Watch it unravel, I’ll soon be naked, lying on the floor, lying on the floor, _

_ I’ve come  _

_ Undone. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> plot twist, asshole


End file.
